feeling normal


Today almost felt normal.

We headed out to pick up a beer order at one of our favorite breweries after fighting for a few, much needed groceries.  Mind you, this is curbside pick up I’m referring to and only Rocky interacted with the dedicated brewery employee keeping the Portland area lubricated.  I sat in the car, enjoying the warmth the rays of sun brought after a few days of rain.  A couple sat in the parking lot a few spots away eating a burger, enjoying a beer and tending to their old, very old dog.  Another couple weighed their options between a couple of food carts before making a decision and retreating to their car to eat food they didn’t have to cook.

Likely while consuming a beer they just bought.

Rules and laws have long gone out the window – “ok, we’ll social distance, but we’ll do it our way”.

Rocky came back to the car with our treasures.  Normally we’d enjoy them in the greenhouse-turned-patio at this brewery, as children and dogs swarm around us (children in breweries are just how they do it here, don’t be prudish) – but today we’ll take them home to enjoy.  Instead of turning right out of the parking lot, we turned left towards the river.  It’s a drive that takes longer and therefore is often looked over for the shortest trip home.

But we have no where to be these days.  Not really.

We meandered around, looking at houses, talking about how much we love this area.  So much is left upended in light of my current situation.  Will we be here in 6 months?  I hope so but who knows.  It wasn’t a conversation we’ve had before March 27, but it’s been our topic of conversation quite often this past month.  Instead of going home to eat, like we’ve been doing so diligently since mid-March (excluding a couple of trips into town for our favorite buffalo wings – to go of course), we head to another favorite haunt that just yesterday reopened for take-out.

I wrote about watching spring happen before my eyes recently, the reopening of restaurants for carry out orders is quite like spring.  Tiny buds popping up, flowers opening, colors emerging.  Even if we’re herded through the parking lots, like cattle, to have our food delivered to the car by hard working employees in masks and gloves, my heart was full.  The familiar smells of burgers, fried tots, the backside of a brewery and winery, the smell of the fresh cut grass in the neighboring golf course – it was so familiar it hurt.

As we drove away, I longed to walk along that road with a drink in hands, exploring the gardens, finding a fire pit to lounge at while we waited for our table to open up.


I hope, very soon.

We found a park with a parking lot still open and sat and ate our lunch and maybe drank one of my favorite brews.  Like I said earlier, rules have gone by the wayside during these strange times.  The flavors so familiar, so refreshing, it was almost as if nothing had changed.

But everything has changed, right?  Everything.

We drove along one of our favorite drives afterwards, at least as far as we could before the road closure forced us to turn around.  That highway was ripe with social distancing offenders for the first few weeks of this lock down and the state closed it.  That’s fine, I suppose, whatever gets us through this as quick as possible.  Those waterfalls will be there when we get to the other side… waiting to take our breath away in May… or June (but hopefully May).

Then we came home… and I spun yarn.  I’ve spun a lot of yarn this last month.  More than I’ve spun in over 7 years.

That felt normal.

And I thought of what tomorrow brings.  Maybe tomorrow looks more like my life did 8 years ago and less like it did 2 months ago.

And that thought felt normal too.

So I pulled out my old idea book and a pencil.  It’s time to get back to work.

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